How I met the man who will edit my next book

The first time I met him

I sputtered and squalked and stalked off to the bathroom

to recollect myself

after he said he’d been reading my blog.

Then I came back and stared him down

I said, “Oh, ok, and did you happen to read the first poem?

The one that says not to read my blog?

and that if you do it anyways, you’re a creep? Even a stalker?”

“Yeah, but..i don’t know. I thought you were being ironic.”

“Well, I wasn’t.”

“I liked your stuff!”

“That’s really not the problem.”

Oh, god, and then that very awkward silence

which followed.

I wanted to call the waitress back

and change my drink order

to the strongest one on the menu


This blog is called Private Bad Thoughts

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again

Since, apparently, it bears repeating

If you are my family member, one of my exes

my psychiatrist, or my colleague – if you know me

You are not allowed to read my poetry

And if you do it anyways

You are a creep

On Becoming a WordPress Poet (and trying, unsuccessfully, to keep it a secret)

so here the time comes
when I’m waiting for
my new boyfriend to text me back
and validate whether or not
he can handle the fact
that I’m a poet who writes
about him and my ex boyfriend
who has legally changed
my name to my pseudonym
and cut all my hair off.

And here’s one of the times
where I privatize my blog
and pretend to have nothing to do with it

my poetry spews out of me
like blood and shit and piss
I’m purging
and its weird to be complimented
on my puddle of sick

I encourage anyone I know
never to read it
because it can become
Sylvia Plath-esque
and sometimes I care about
what feels like
putting a web cam up
in my bathroom
but its such a relief
after years of silence,
I keep doing it